Under the influence revised version
by Chapin CSI
Summary: GSR. After Early Rollout. Grissom takes Sara to a friend's rehab center. The healing process is long and painful but Sara's willing to do it. But what if Grissom's part of the problem, not the solution?
1. Default Chapter

No, they are not my property and I am not making any money out of this. 

This story is told from Grissom's POV

Spoilers:  Burden of Proof, Early Rollout

Pairing:  Grissom and Sara.

This story gets a little sad at times  but it has a happy ending.

Thank you for reviewing this story.  It means a lot to me that you like it, since don't speak English and I have some difficulties with descriptions… 

UNDER THE INFLUENCE (revised version)

The phone call came at 9:00 in the morning, just as I was driving home.  The man didn't identify himself, but I would recognize his voice anywhere.  It was Officer Fromanski.

"One of your people's in trouble." He said curtly.

"Who?  What's wrong?"

"Be here, now" he replied, giving me an address and hanging up.  

I hesitated.  Fromanski was a free man thanks to CSI but I didn't think he was the kind of man who'd forget any offenses, real or assumed; I wasn't going to trust him so easily. I put my gun in my pocket and drove fast, wondering what the hell he wanted.

**

An ambulance was pulling away by the time I arrived and I felt a sudden dread.  I had not taken his words seriously enough and now it seemed that he'd been telling the truth; someone was in trouble.

Fromanski was leaning on his squad car wiping his dark glasses.  His bland expression didn't change when I approached him.  

"What happened?" I asked, "Is someone in that ambulance?"

"Nah, she wasn't badly hurt." Fromanski said, tilting his head in his car's direction, "She was DUI and had a minor accident. Car had to be towed away.  No victims, except that tree." He pointed, but I kept my eyes on the passenger inside the car.  Sara.  She briefly looked up and then hurriedly away.

"She didn't want me to call you," Fromanski explained, "but I thought you should deal with it.  It was either you or Court."

"Thank you" I said and opened the door to see what shape she was in. She had a bruise on her forehead and a bandaged hand, but other than that, she looked OK.

"Sara?"

She didn't turn to me, but opened the door on her side of the car and got out.  I turned to talk to Fromanski, but he spoke first.

"She needs a good talkin' to." He said,  "Next time she might not be so lucky and wind up killing someone or doing-"

"I know."  I interrupted, "Thank you for calling me."

"We're even." he retorted, carefully putting on his glasses. He got in his car and drove away.  

I turned to Sara, who was standing on the sidewalk, still refusing to look at me.  I wanted to ask her what the hell had happened, but anger would lead me nowhere.  I took a deep breath.

"Let's go"  I said,  "I'll take you home"

She turned and walked unsteadily to the car.

"You really are drunk" I frowned "Do you need any help?"

"I don't" she retorted.  I opened the door for her and placed my hand over her head to prevent her from hurting herself, but she shook me off.  "I'm not a perp" she protested and entered the car by herself.

I got in and waited for some explanation from her, but she just stared ahead.  I asked her if she needed any medical attention then.

"The EMT cleared me" she replied, slightly slurring her words.  She gulped "Please, just… drop me at my place"

I drove, glancing at her now and then, wondering what to do.  If it had been one of the guys I would have known what to say, but with Sara I'm usually tongue-tied and today it was worse. 

"Were you at a party?" I ventured and her glare was eloquent enough.  "All right, you were not.  You left CSI and you managed to get this drunk in what, three hours?" I stopped at a red light and a thought came to me "You were already drinking at the lab?"

"No!" she quickly replied "I wouldn't.  Not there."

The light changed and I continued driving.

"Why did you do it, Sara? You've processed dozens of car accident victims; you know what drinking and driving can do." I glanced at her.

"Next time I won't drive, then," she replied, and she actually smiled.  It was a sarcastic, lopsided smile that marred her face and made me shiver.  

"It's not funny," I glared, "You could have died back there. You could have killed someone"

She didn't comment and we remained silent during the rest of the drive.  When we arrived at her building she muttered 'sorry' and hurriedly got out of the car.

"Sara, wait." I called out, getting out of the car "We need to talk"

"Nothing to talk about." she said, without turning, "I drank too much and I shouldn't have.  I won't do it again."

"Wait," I said, reaching her and grasping her arm as gently as I could. "We need to-"

"Leave me alone," she protested, wrestling her arm away. 

"I'll walk you upstairs." I insisted, "I don't want you to hurt yourself."

She stopped and to my surprise, began to laugh.  

"You…" she gulped, and her words punctuated her chuckles, "YOU… don't …want… ME… to get hurt! …"  Her laughter was becoming hysterical and I grabbed her arm, not bothering to be gentle this time.

"Enough!" I hissed.  My anger surprised her so much that she didn't protest when I dragged her to her building.  

The man at the desk frowned when he saw us.

"Party." I shrugged, and the guy winked conspiratorially, letting me in.  My God, he didn't really care that I was practically manhandling this girl up to her place!  It reminded me of all those cases of date rape that I'd processed in my career and I wondered how many times Sara had come like this, with someone else.  It angered me, but just as I was going to scold her, I realized that I was still holding her close to me by force and  I released her arm.  She crossed her arms against herself and walked as far away from me as she could, her face expressionless.  

When we got to her place she had some trouble opening the door but once she did she quickly entered and tried to close the door on my face.   It took me by surprise, but I quickly pushed my shoulder in.

"Sara, we have to-"

"Go away!" she grunted, pushing the door against me. "I'll scream if you don't leave!" 

"You won't." I said, secure in the knowledge that she'd never do anything to hurt me.  "I need to see that everything's all right" I said and pushed my way in.  

"Go away!" She cried, trying to push me out but it was too late.  

"Oh, Sara..." I muttered.

Her place was a mess.  Bottles.  Bottles everywhere. Some were empty and dusty, others were half empty...  I looked at her and she was blushing, hesitating between anger and shame.

"Just leave," she said coldly. "Just leave, Grissom. You have no right to do this."

Beer, wine.  Red, white...   My anger dissolved.  I turned to her.  She was trembling, standing in the middle of her ruined home.  I cradled her face with my hands.

"Sara, why?… " I asked softly, "Do you realize what this could do to your work at the lab?"

She jerked away from me, looking as if she couldn't believe what I was saying.

"The lab," she said and then she chuckled softly, too tired to laugh. "Jesus, Grissom, you're a… You, you're a…" she gulped, "I-I can't believe you…you… Oh, God."  she suddenly clamped a hand on her mouth and fled to the kitchen and was violently sick.  She was heaving violently and painfully; sometimes there was a brief pause and then she was throwing up again.  

Eventually she stopped, but she remained hunched over the sink, breathing harshly.

After a while, I went to her and tentatively patted her back, trying to comfort her.  She jumped away in fright.  Apparently she hard forgotten I was there.

"Grissom!" she cried, "For God's sake, leave me alone!!" she begged, and she frantically began to wash up the sink.

I grabbed some paper towels and dampened them

"Here." I whispered and started to clean up her face.

"No.  No, no" she said, walking backwards, trying to flee from me.

"Sara, honey, let me, please." I said as tenderly as I could, "Please."

All fight went from her.  I cleaned her face and then filled a bowl with water to wash the vomit off her hair.  

She looked away, holding back the tears until she simply couldn't anymore.  

"Shhh, Sara," I whispered, trying to pull her in my arms.

"Please, leave me alone…" she sobbed, pushing me away, "Please, Grissom-"

"I can't, Sara," I whispered, closing my arms around her, "We're friends, remember? "

She stopped fighting me and suddenly she was openly weeping, holding me close to her, as if she needed me more than anything in the world.  Se eventually stopped crying, but we remained like that.  It felt good to hold her like this.  

"It's so ironic" she said suddenly, her words muffled against my shoulder.

"What is?"

"That I had to puke to get you to touch me" 

Her words reminded me that I was holding her because she was drunk and needed help, not for any other reason. 

I held my breath for a moment but she didn't say more and I released her.

She stumbled away from me and sat on a stool by the kitchen counter.  I looked at her for a moment and then I sat beside her.

"Sara," I cleared my throat, "I have a friend who can help."

"I don't need-"  

"Please, Sara." I interrupted, "He's someone you can talk to." I insisted. "You know that this has to stop"

"For the good of the lab." she said bitterly, "Right"

"And for your health, too.  Your life.  You're taking some terrible risks here." And I told her about the easy attitude of the guy downstairs.

She stared at the only window in the living room.

"I know it's wrong, it's just..." she shook her head.

"It's just?"  I insisted, but she didn't say anything else. "Will you see this friend?  It isn't AA, but he's someone who'll listen" she didn't say anything and I insisted, "Sara?"

"Let me go" she whispered.

"Go where?" I frowned

"Please, Grissom." She pleaded softly, "I can't go on like this." 

"That's true," I agreed.

"Then let me go." She said, looking at me "Sign it this time. Please"

Suddenly, I understood.  The Leave of Absence form that I had refused to sign years ago was still in her possession. 

I tried not to panic.

"Sara, I can't-"  

"Please.  There's nothing for me here." Her lips trembled, "I don't even like my job anymore." she sighed "And you... you're bad for my self-esteem." 

"I'm sorry-" I mumbled.

"It's not your fault," she said quickly, "It's mine.  I gave you my life without asking if you wanted it."

I froze.  She had never talked to me like this, so openly, and I couldn't find the right thing to say. 

"You didn't want it and I…I've come to terms with that Grissom".

"Sara, I -"

"I want my life back, now."

I briefly considered her words, but I didn't want to deal with them at that moment.

"I'll call my friend and make an appointment for you." I said, taking out my cell phone.

"I told you I won't drink anymore-"

"Good." I nodded, "You'll need some help though, so this is what you're going to do: Take some aspirin and go to sleep.  I'll call my friend and set an appointment for you.  I'll come back at noon, bring something light to eat and then we'll talk.  All right?"

She looked at me sadly.

"You didn't even listen to me"

"I did. But right now you need to sleep.  All right?"  I repeated.  I took her hand.  It was cold and damp. "You'll feel better after you rest.  Do you have any aspirin?  You'll need some fluids too"

"I'm exhausted, Grissom" she whispered.

"I know, honey.  Do you have any aspirin?" I insisted.

"That drawer" she pointed.  I rummaged through it and found a bottle.  I opened the fridge and found some apple juice- and more wine and beer.  I handed her the juice and the aspirin, "Take two pills and drink the juice slowly."  She quietly obeyed. "You'll feel better afterwards" I said brightly.  "Now, go to sleep."

She nodded slowly and, clutching her bottle, she hesitatingly walked down the aisle to her room.

"Do you need help?" I offered but she shook her head.  Of course she didn't.  She had been through enough embarrassments already, and she didn't want to be treated as an invalid.  

I only hoped that she didn't have booze in her bedroom too.

I sighed.  I couldn't believe this was happening.  Sara, one of the strongest women I had ever met shouldn't be having this kind of trouble. Yes, she had looked a bit fragile to me a few weeks ago, but I never suspected this!  I just thought she was working too hard.  Now that I saw the mess she had been sinking into, I felt sad for her.  

Oh, Sara. So sensitive; always taking her cases so personally… My Sara, so lonely.  So unlucky too, falling for the wrong men.  First me, then that idiot who cheated on her… 

But I was the worst, wasn't I?  After all, she had given her life to me….

Suddenly I needed to get busy:  I took the empty bottles and piled them by the door and I emptied the rest in the sink; I washed the sink and cleaned the fridge; I checked the kitchen and the living room for more booze and found nothing, but I kept looking, just in case.  A whirl of activity to drown out the memory of what she had said to me.  

But naturally, once I stopped cleaning and washing, her words came to my mind.

"I can't go on like this" 

'She is just a little sick,' I said to myself, dismissively, 'She only needs a little rest and then she'll come around. She's just ashamed and she thinks I'm disappointed, but we'll get over this.  Things will go back to normal as soon as she gets a little help.'

I looked around, glad that at least I had cleaned up her home.  By the time she woke up she would  feel better and I'd have an appointment for her.  I'd take her to my friend, who would talk to her and devise a plan of recovery, and in a matter of days she'd be back to normal.  

"You didn't even listen to me" 

I sighed. Oh, Sara, if she would only know how wrong she was.  I listened to every single word, but it was easier to pretend she hadn't said anything.

I wanted to stay busy, so I started to make a mental list of things to do:  Make phone calls, buy her some groceries… some flowers too, to brighten up her place...  

'No, not flowers,' I corrected myself; 'A plant'  

Déjà vu.  And that's when I saw it.  On a high shelf, all by itself; a thriving orchid in a red ceramic pot. The plant I'd given her some time ago as a peace offering.  

I approached it to examine it closely. It was healthy, lovely, and strong, just as she had been just a few months ago, and the thought was inevitable:  She taken better care of a plant than of herself.

I touched the velvety leaves and suddenly I could see Sara, drinking beer for breakfast but carefully watering her little plant.  Nurturing it. 

I looked at this plant that I had given her as a consolation prize; a little crumb of the love I felt but would never be able to give her. I remembered how glad I was that Sara had accepted my gift; so relieved, too that she had forgiven me for not having the guts to deliver it in person.  She must have told herself that it was a start; that some day I'd come around and tell her that I loved her.  

Now I realized that this hope had chained her to me and to a job that she said she didn't like anymore.  

I realized too that instead of giving her this plant I should have talked to her and explain that I'd never be able to give her what she needed; that I couldn't start a relationship with her because I was afraid that one day she'd leave me and get on with her life, while I remained behind, more lonely than ever, incapable of moving on.  

But I didn't tell her any of this.  I simply hoped she'd get over it.

What I hadn't anticipated was that she'd suffer like this. That she'd discover that I was bad for her self-esteem.

"Sara… I'm so sorry" I whispered, horrified by my discovery. Up until that day I hadn't realized I had this destructive influence on anybody.  I was as bad as the wine and the beer that had made her sick…

I looked at the darkened hallway and after a few minutes, I went to her bedroom.  It was dark, but I could see her lying on her side, her arms wrapped around herself.  She was so thin; a shadow of the Sara that came to Vegas years ago.

I made my decision, then.  If she wanted to leave, I'd let her go.  It was the least I could do after all she had lost because of me.    

But if she still wanted me... I'd say yes this time.  Not because I thought I was the right man for her, God knows I wasn't.  But if she still needed me, I'd be there and love her; love her until she needed to move on.  I wouldn't let my fears hurt her anymore.   

I kneeled by her bed and prayed.

"Get well, Sara, please.  I'll do anything.  I'll say yes to anything you ask me. Just, please, get well.  Please, please…"

.

Part 2

Eventually, I left.  She seemed so exhausted that it felt safe to leave her alone, while I made my phone calls and went to the grocery store.  

When I returned at noon, I went straight to her room to check up on her.  She was breathing evenly and hadn't moved from her balled up position in the middle of the bed. 

I sat on the floor, and looked around.

Her room seemed to be her sanctuary from the world outside.  The curtains were dark and thick and they kept the room safe from sunlight and traffic noises.  As far as I could see, she didn't have any booze here.  There were books piled everywhere, though.  Textbooks most of all; a few mysteries.  Each had a bookmark in the middle, as if she had been unable to concentrate on any of them for long.  

"How are your days like, Sara?" I asked softly, "What do you do for a diversion?"

Stupid questions; by now it was clear what she had been doing.  

There was a time when I had tried to help her find a diversion, but she resisted me and I didn't insist.

I guess I would have known how to help if she had been someone else; I've helped other people, after all. I mean, I was able to help Warrick.  I'm friendly with Catherine and it's never been difficult to have her over for dinner at my place; we're friends and that's that.  But with Sara, I'd always had the feeling that there was something else behind any gesture of mine.  Asking her to dinner would always feel like a date and I'd try to take her hand. If we went to the movies, I'd spend two hours trying not to put my arm around her shoulders.

I was ashamed to admit this, but apparently I didn't know how to be her friend anymore.  And I didn't know how to be a lover either.

A soft moan from her brought me out of these gloomy thoughts.  She was waking up.   

I froze; I knew that I should leave but a part of me wanted to see her wake up… Just in case I never got another chance.

She sighed and turned until she was on her back.  She groaned when she tried to sit up, so she stopped.  It took her a little while, but finally she slowly sat up, moaning a little and keeping her eyes shut.

She lifted a trembling hand to rub her face and winced when she accidentally touched the bruise.  She gingerly touched it again and then she slowly opened her eyes.  She looked down and examined her bandaged hand. 

"Oh, sh-" she whispered, shaking her head and regretting it.  She surely had one hell of a headache.  "Oh, God-" she muttered.

She kept her head down for a moment.  Finally, gathering all her strength, she swung her legs off the bed and started unbuttoning her blouse.  

I quickly stood up and cleared my throat to warn her of my presence. She cried out in fright and turned around, almost falling off the bed.

"Sara, hey, it's Ok, it's me!" I said lifting both hands.

"Grissom!" she gasped, more angry than scared now, "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see if you were all right-"

"I am." She said curtly, turning her head away from me and covering her bruise with her good hand, "Please, leave."

"All right," I said, trying to placate her by retreating to the hallway. "I'll be in the kitchen."

**

She took a long shower.  

When she finally appeared, she was wearing sweatpants and thick socks and her hair was still wet.  

She was in pain.  She must have a headache and by the way she was holding her bandaged hand close to her, it was obvious that it was hurting, too.  She silently accepted some aspirin and a glass of water.

"Put this on your forehead," I said, handing her a plastic bag filled with crushed ice.  She carefully pressed it against her face and blindly felt around for a chair and sat. After a while she removed the bag, but she kept her eyes closed for a while.  I stared at her.  It was shocking to see her like this.  Without all the make up she'd been wearing lately, I could see how blemished her skin was, and the purple blotches that marred her eyes.

She suddenly opened her eyes and looked straight at me.

"What?" she glared, "I look like hell, I know. You don't have to look at me like that."

"Drink this," I said, placing a tall glass in front of her.

"What is it?" she sniffed the thick liquid and made a face.

"Hangover cure. Drink it." I insisted, "It smells foul but trust me, it'll help. They used to make pitchers of this in College"

She held her breath and drank half.  Her face contorted.  She would have looked funny in other circumstances.

"Oh, yuck, what did you put in this?"

"Finish it." I said evasively.  Her lips trembled and she hesitated.  "Sara, it'll help, I promise."

She sighed and drank the rest.  She put the ice back on her bruise and closed her eyes again.

I kept busy, fixing a salad.  I had bought just enough groceries to feed her lunch and dinner.  She would be away for a long time and it didn't make sense to buy more.  

I fixed two plates and placed one in front of her.  

"I hope you like mushrooms" I said brightly, sitting beside her. "Eat, Sara."

She put the ice bag down and picked up a fork.  She played with her food for a while, but it was clear that she wasn't hungry.  After a moment she cleared her throat.

"Grissom." She said, looking at her plate, "I…I am sorry about this.  I made a mistake and…well… I learned my lesson." She lifted her gaze, "You don't have to watch over me.  I won't drink again."

"I believe you." I said gently, "But this wasn't a one-time binge, Sara.  We both know there's something more serious going on here."

"You don't think I can stop on my own?" There was a touch of resentment in her voice.

"You might be able to stop." I admitted, "But what worries me is the fact that you started to drink in the first place.  There is always a reason for this.  Do you remember what I told you about a friend?" I paused, waiting for her answer. I insisted. "Sara, do you remember what I said?" 

"Yes," she replied, exasperated, "But I don't need to talk to anybody!  It's not his problem anyway and it's certainly not yours!"

"Of course it is." I replied calmly, "I care about you. And yes, I am concerned about the lab, too." I said pointedly, "If a defense lawyer learns about this, every case you have worked on this year will be put under investigation by Internal Affairs…"

"Let them," she said defiantly, "My work is fine!"

"… And we'll end up losing half of those cases because it's more politically correct to be a sober murderer than a drunken investigator." I finished callously, "You're always saying how much you care about the victims, Sara; you don't want that to happen, do you?"

She angrily stabbed a few bits of lettuce with her fork and didn't answer.  

"We'll keep this between you and me." I continued, "I called Fromanski.  He filed the call as an accident due to a third party that left the scene, and nobody tested you for alcohol; he says we're safe and I believe him." I waited for a reaction but didn't get any, so I went on with my plans. "Tonight you'll come to the lab and fill out requests for paid medical leave and a three-week vacation."

"Three weeks! No way!" she was outraged, "I'm working on a case and I have it almost figured it out!"

"Sara, you can't go back to the lab," I said emphatically, "Any lab, for that matter." I finished, in case she simply tried to quit.  "You'll hand me all the documentation concerning your current cases and file whatever you have pending.  Then you'll dedicate three weeks to yourself." I took a deep breath, "This friend I told you about has a clinic that passes as a 'spa'; it caters to movie stars and public figures with addiction problems, it's very discreet.  Don is a dedicated person and I trust him."

She didn't say anything and I continued.  

"I have a list of the items you'll have to bring to the Clinic," I said, searching for it in my pockets.  She sighed noisily.

"How much is it going to cost me, Grissom?"

I hesitated; I hadn't asked Don and I had simply assumed that I'd be paying.  I couldn't tell her that of course.

"Sara, right now you don't need to worry about the cost-"

"I'll get the money, Grissom." She interrupted, "I just need to know how much."

"You'll have to ask Don."  I said evasively.  I tentatively reached for her hand, "Sara, I have money too, all right? All that matters is you."

She looked at my hand on hers and all her bitterness seemed to dissolve.  Her eyes filled with tears.

"I told you that I…I .." she gulped, "I said awful things to you today."

"It's Ok-"

"It's not Ok." She contradicted.  "But the worst is that I still believe in what I said.  And I'm sorry, Grissom, but-"

"Sara, I understand," I said quickly, "Believe me, I do.  This is a very emotional time for you, and-"

"Grissom" she interrupted.  She took a deep breath and looked at me in the eye.  A tear rolled down her cheek. "I don't want you to think that I'm ungrateful.  I mean, you're trying to be nice and you've done all this to help me, but…right now you're the last person I want to talk to." She looked down, "I can't take it, Ok?… I'd rather be alone for a while."

I released her hand.

"I understand." I said mechanically.  I gently pushed her plate towards her, "Eat a little, ok?" 

I took my untouched plate and threw the food in the garbage can.  I cleaned up the mess  I'd made while preparing lunch- another whirl of activity to keep me from thinking.  But it was inevitable.  

I thought of the many times we had eaten lunch together and how I had taken for granted her company and her acceptance of me and all my quirks.

Now that even a little meal together seemed out of reach, I realized that contentment had been just a few inches away.  If I had extended my hand, the world would have been mine. 

**

She looked uncomfortable as CSI personnel fussed over her.  The guys wanted to test her car to find clues about the perp who had caused her accident, but she gently persuaded them not to bother.   Nick insisted on having her cases handed to him and promised to keep her up to date in their developments.  She was evasive about what her plans were for this sudden vacation, but Greg kept after her, asking where she was going and with whom.  Warrick was more relaxed about it, simply suggesting what places to visit.

Catherine was more practical, taking Sara aside to teach her how to use make up to cover up her bruise.  Sara chuckled a little at that.

Only Brass didn't say anything; he just watched her.  When Sara met his gaze, she reddened and avoided looking his way again.  That was odd but I forgot all about it afterwards.  We had so much to do.

She held back tears when she handed me her keys and her gun.  It wasn't the first time she did it; she had gone on vacation before.  But this time she was leaving for a longer period of time and the circumstances were different.  Maybe she even thought she was leaving for good.  So she was sad, but her tears were also of anger and frustration.  

We didn't talk about this, though.  She used the little time she had to instruct Nick on how to handle her cases and Nick listened, good naturedly.

**

She was silent until we saw the building.  The clinic was far away from the city and it was set among some rocky hills.  It looked beautiful under the full moon.

"Three weeks," she sighed, "It's too long just to be sitting around."

"Maybe they'll teach you macramé," I teased but she didn't even glare.

She remained subdued as we entered the property.

It was a quiet place and very well staffed.  We didn't have to wait around; someone was already waiting for us.  This was clearly the kind of place where most visitors came at night.

A nurse came for her soon after we arrived, and the last I said to her was that I'd visit and to please call me if she needed anything.  She nodded and clutching her bag she followed the nurse.

Just before she went through the door, she turned.  She smiled and waved.

It was her shy smile.  The one I fell in love with when we met.

Third chapter

Don Mackenzie, the clinic's Director, was one of the few friends from College that I still talked to.   He lived at the Clinic, which allowed him to be there every time a new patient arrived. He was always busy, but as a personal favor he had promised to talk as soon as Sara's admission was processed.  

He was reading Sara's admission forms when I came in.

"Hey, Gil." He greeted and continued reading.  After a moment, he lifted his gaze from the sheets of paper "Did she resist coming here?" 

"Well… yes, at first.  Actually, what pissed her off the most was the list of the things she had to pack." And I smiled, remembering the look on her face when she read it.

"…Tennis shoes… sandals…a dress?" she had said, looking up, "They want me to pack a dress?  What for?" she morosely continued reading it. When she finished it she demanded, "What's the name of this place, Grissom?  Do they have a website?  I'm not going there unless I know more about them…"

That sounded so much like the Sara I knew, that I gave her the name of the place and its founder, Donald Mackenzie.  By the time I left, she was hurrying to finish her salad, eager to investigate this spa.  But she was still protesting about the dress-

"…and according to you, she kept all the bottles?" Don asked, stopping my musing.

"Apparently.  Some were really dusty, as if they had been there for weeks."

"Uh, huh. That might mean that she wasn't in denial.  Some people hide all evidence of their binges and start each day as if nothing out of the ordinary happened."

"She's not in denial." I confirmed, "I think she's ashamed."

"Ashamed of what she did or ashamed that she got caught?"

"Both, I guess."  Don continued reading and after a moment, I spoke again. "Don, about the cost…I'd like to pay half."

"Why?" he asked neutrally. "You're neither her father nor her husband."

"Look, I think she's still paying student loans. I don't want her to feel burdened by debts on top of everything else."

He looked at me for a moment.

"You're feeling guilty, aren't you?" he didn't wait for an answer, "That's a normal reaction from friends and relatives, Gil. Listen." he put the papers down, "A person who enters a program of recovery needs to accept responsibility for their actions, and deal with the consequences, whatever they are: payment of debts, jail, health problems.  And they need help, sure, but with limitations." He explained, "In this case Sara is already in a position of disadvantage towards you, since you went against regulations to save her job." He lifted a hand to stop me from interrupting him. "That's bad enough, but owing you money on top of that would-"  He stopped and looked at me suspiciously, "Unless you want to keep it a secret?"

"Well… yeah."

He took off his reading glasses and leant back on his chair.

"Gil, did you tell me everything about your relationship with this woman or not?"

Actually, I had given him a small version of what I knew of Sara –including Hank- and a part of what our relationship had been like, up to the time when she asked me out.  I had been evasive, to say the least.

"Gil?  It's clear that she's in love with you, but what about you?  Do you love her?"

"I…"  I hesitated, "I guess…"

"Don't 'I guess' me.  If you love her, fine, if you don't, fine.  Just be honest with me." He waited for me to say something and then he added, "I'll take that as a 'yes'. That means you haven't been honest with her."  He sighed. "Gil, I want to make this clear:  Sara is my patient now.  I'll defend her right to get well against anything and anybody who interferes."

"Don, I'll do anything to help." I insisted, "Truly"

"Well, that's good, Gil. You can start by not paying for her treatment. If you do, she'll feel like she's doing this for your sake. She needs to do it because her life depends on it.  Understand? You can loan her the money if it's necessary, as long as you do it with all due formalities.  As for any feelings you have for her…" he said slowly, "If it turns out that they are part of the problem or the solution, I'll involve you. And even if they are not, please remember that her life will change after this. She might decide to leave her job and even this city, and you'll have to accept that."

"Absolutely." I said firmly, "Whatever she does, it'll be fine with me." 

"Really? You'd give her up that easily?  That's very noble of you, Gil." He said appraisingly, "As her therapist I would approve.  Perhaps.  But as your friend…" he looked at me in the eye, "As your friend, I have to ask:  What do YOU want?"

"I want her to get well." I frowned.

"And nothing else?"

"No." I insisted and he nodded and looked at me thoughtfully and silently, like all therapists do when they want to make you talk. I stared back, unwilling to cooperate.  I knew he was too busy to keep this up.

"Oh, well." He said finally, "That's for you and your own therapist to figure out.  Although knowing you, you'll just bury yourself in work."  He shook his head, reprovingly.

"Look, just do your part, will you?" I interrupted morosely, "And don't charge her as if she were a movie star."

"Hey, those movie stars are the ones who keep this place open, so don't use that tone." He protested but he was smiling, "I'll work out something with her, don't worry.  Gil, I'm optimistic about her.  From what you've told me and simply by reading what she wrote here, I gather she's a strong woman,."

"She is…" I started, "…that's what makes all this so hard to understand."

"Oh." He took a deep breath, "Gil, you work with the PD, you know how stressing that work is; not everybody knows how to deal with the pressure.  It's the kind of job you can't casually talk about during dinner with your loved ones, is it? And it's hard on single people too.  Some people are comfortable with silence and solitude, like you, while others can't bear to be alone with their thoughts; they need to go out for a drink and for some company… and that's how it starts."

"I should have seen the signals." I lamented, "I mean, how can a smart woman like her-"

"She's a human being, Grissom." He interrupted, "Stop thinking of her as a perfect machine that can't do wrong. She isn't.  And you're not, either."  He glanced at the papers on his desk, "Anyway, tomorrow is a big day for her. Physical exams from seven to eleven… Then our first session at 4:00 in the afternoon."

"You'll see her until then?"

"I like to see them at their worst; after spending long hours in a bedroom by themselves…" he looked up and saw my expression, "Hey, don't worry, it won't be like that the following days.  She'll get plenty of exercise, she'll eat healthy food, she'll have some occupational therapy, and she'll have work to do."

"Work?"

"Oh, yes.  You see, some people come here to rest between binges.  We know that and they know that.  All I can do is reassure them that I'll be there if they want to stop.  But someone like Sara… it's hard work, Gil.  Not only physical."

**

She had given me the keys to her place.  She'd asked me to go now and then if I had the time.  Of course I'd go.  I'd rather be in her tiny living room/kitchen/dining area than at the lab or at my own place.

I entered and immediately saw it.  A white card resting against her PC.

'Could you please take care of my orchid?' the note said, followed by some instructions, ending with a stern, 'please don't move the pot' that was underlined twice.

She was forcing me to come to her place to take care of her little plant.

I smiled gratefully.  Of course I would come. It would be my own Occupational Therapy.

"All right, Sara." I said aloud, "I'll take care of our baby."

**

As per Don's instructions, I didn't visit until two days later.  

That first visit was brief and disastrous.  

I sat in an open area surrounded by a garden and tall walls.  I had chosen a table under a big umbrella and waited for her for a long time.  At last a glass door opened and a nurse came out, followed by her.  Sara nodded at something the nurse said and walked down the narrow path towards my table.  I was taken aback to see her looking worse than the day she had come; she was paler and thinner and she was so tired she could barely keep her eyes open.

"Honey, are you sure you're-"

"Don't 'honey' me" she interrupted brusquely, "that's your compassionate word and I hate it."

What could I say after that? We barely exchanged a couple of phrases about the lab before she admitted that she was tired. 

"I can't sleep at night," she explained briefly, and then she asked if I knew my way back.  I nodded.

"Sara, if you need anything-"

"I'll be all right" she mumbled and left.  Her steps were hesitant as she walked down the path that lead to the housing area.  

Seeing her like this made me wonder if bringing her here had been such a good idea. I talked to Don but he was unmoved by my anger.  He calmly told me that yes, she looked bad; no, she wasn't sleeping well, and no, she wasn't eating well.  Finally he said that no, he couldn't tell me anything else; her parents were coming tomorrow and he would talk to them. 

He tried to be friendly, though.  He asked me what I wanted.  Again. And just like the last time he'd asked that, I answered that I wanted her to get well.

He just shook his head.

**

My fourth visit went better.

She was already waiting for me at the same table we'd used before, the one with the big umbrella. I mused that if one ignored the tall walls that surrounded the garden, it felt as if we were at some fancy resort. I told her that and she nodded vigorously. She told me then that certain aspects of the treatment made her uncomfortable.

"I feel like some pampered wife-" she said and then she blushed, and talked about the massages and the work outs, and the unnecessary luxury.  She touched the sleeve of her t-shirt, the one they used as a sort of uniform.

"See this?  It's silk" she rolled her eyes, "Not cotton, Grissom.  Silk.  Oh, and those nightgowns-" she suddenly blushed.

"What about them?" I asked neutrally.

"Oh.  You know."  She was evasive now, "Lacy, complicated, things." 

I was beginning to picture her in a lacy, complicated thing and had to force myself to stop.

"So. What else you do here?" I asked.

"Well… I have Occupational Therapy, a therapy session with Dr. Mackenzie or Dr. Sheen, an hour at the Gym… Oh, and I'm working in the kitchen now."  She chuckled when she saw my expression, "Yeah, I know.  I didn't like it at first until I thought, 'what the hell; this is better than cleaning up rest rooms along the highway', which is what I should be doing.  I mean, if Fromanski hadn't been on call that day."

Her tone was slightly bitter and I quickly changed the subject.

"Are you taking any medication?"

"Yes. I had the beginnings of an ulcer," she explained matter-of-factly, "and my vomiting was starting to damage my esophagus."

"You were vomiting much?"

"Yes.  My body had been rejecting the alcohol for some time." She looked down, "It seems that my body's smarter than my brain."

She was silent for a moment.  I told her that her coworkers were fine and missing her, and that things were ok at her home, but soon we both were silent again and it was uncomfortable.  We glanced at each other, both wanting to talk, probably, but afraid of saying the wrong thing.  For instance, I wanted to ask her why she had started to drink and if she still wanted to do it… but Don had asked me not to pressure her.  If I wanted to keep coming, I had to wait for her to tell me anything.  If she wanted to.

Finally she took a deep breath.

"Grissom, I'd like to…to…"

She closed her eyes in exasperation.

"I've been composing this speech for days and now I don't know how to begin." She opened her eyes and smiled sheepishly.  "It's just that… There's something I've wanted to tell you and never found the right words.  Grissom, when we were at my place…I'm… I'm afraid I gave you the impression that I was angry with you?" she barely gave me a chance to answer when she rushed on, "I wasn't, all right?  I was ashamed.  So much that I couldn't bear to be in the same room with you.  Frankly, all I wanted was to scream at you."

"Why?" I frowned.

"For being so nice to me. For doing things that I knew I didn't deserve-" 

"Oh, God, Sara, you deserve-" I tried to reassure her but she interrupted.

"I failed you and the lab, and you put your job on the line for me.  You could get fired over this." She covered her face with both hands for a moment.  Her words were muffled. "And you were cleaning up after me! God, that was so horrible-" she lowered her hands "I mean, it was so nice but terrible at the same time; I kept wishing that you'd stop being nice and start yelling or-"

"Sara, I did want to yell at you." I confessed, "Believe me, I wanted to shake you and scream at you for putting your life at risk.  But I also wanted to do something nice, since I haven't done anything for you lately.  And if you think you've failed me, then… I'll have to apologize for failing you, too Sara.  I should have known something was going on with you and I didn't."

"You have enough problems." She said, looking down at her hands.  

We remained in silence for a moment until she took a deep breath.

"That morning… I mean, when I had the accident… It was the first time I ever drank in a public place.  Now I realize that I went to a bar because I was trying to recreate the last time I felt really good after having a drink."

"When was that?"

"After I discovered that Hank was engaged." she blushed. "You see, Catherine took me to a bar and we had some drinks and we talked for hours and…it felt good.  I even laughed at myself for crying over him.  It's only now that I realize that it wasn't the drinks that made me feel good.  It was her company and the chance to talk." 

"You were drinking since that day?" I asked and winced.  It was one of the questions I had promised not to ask.

"No." she said quietly. "No, I wasn't.  It was more recently that I…" she shrugged and remained silent for a while. Then she seemed angry, "God, what a mess. I'm a mess." 

"Sara… I think it's time you give yourself some credit. You could have resisted coming here but you didn't. And you're sticking to the program, right?  That takes guts." 

"Oh." She smiled shyly. "I guess.  But I'm…I'm ambivalent about this place, you know? Sometimes I think it's stupid to be here.  And sometimes I can't bear to think that I'll have to leave."  There was a touch of fear in her voice that alarmed me. 

"Sara, do you think this place is helping?"

"Yes."  She said quietly.  

Then she explained that she had to go back to finish her macramé bag  ("Yes, Grissom, it's macramé; don't laugh,"); then, after saying that she'd be all right, she hurried down the same path she'd crossed the other times.  The nurse opened the door and let her in. 

After that door was closed, I walked down the path that led to an opposite door.  

It was like a prison.

It wasn't until I was at a crime scene that I realized she had not mentioned her parents.

Part 4

**

My eighth visit was my last. 

I didn't know that, of course; otherwise I wouldn't have enjoyed so much the drive to the Clinic.   There were always fewer vehicles the closest one got to the Clinic and that gave me a chance think of what to say to Sara and what news to give her; it also gave me a chance to glance at the book I was going to give her that day.  It was difficult to bring anything else.  The staff checked every gift one brought and the rules were:  don't bring anything eatable (fruits could be fermented and turned into alcohol, candy and cookies were fattening); no flowers (they had enough, thank you); nothing that could be used to harm the inmates (sorry, that word is mine, but it applies well); no stuffed animals, no radio sets, in short, nothing that could be used to smuggle drugs or booze…

That day I was going to give her a slim volume of Emily Dickinson's poetry. 

While I drove I played a little fantasy game I'd played a couple of times before:  I pretended that I was visiting Sara at a fancy resort in Florida.  In these little games of mine, it was usually Italy but that day it was Florida. Then my fantasy changed a little: I was visiting her because she had just given birth to her first baby.  Why that particular fantasy?  I didn't know, but I was happy, driving and choosing names for the baby:  Sophie… Joseph… Andrea… Andrea Grissom? No, that was a mouthful. Sophie Grissom sounded just right- 

Of course I immediately rolled my eyes and told myself to stop it.

All my fantasy games ended as soon as the clinic came into view.  It was a beautiful place; it was elegant; there were fancy plants everywhere and the carpets were thick and expensive, but that didn't matter because too soon you realized that it was like a prison.  You left your ID, keys, and cell phone at the reception, and you knew that there would always be a nurse keeping an eye on you and your friend.

Still, it was the best place she could be in and that was a consolation.

I waited for Sara under the big umbrella, hoping she'd feel better.  The day before she had seemed ok, but two days ago she had been distracted and sullen, even angry.   She hadn't talked much and it was almost at the end of our 50 minutes that she had bitterly told me that her parents had come for a visit.

"They said that everything's fine. That I'm fine." She said, shredding a tissue in tiny pieces while she spoke, "That's all they kept saying-"

"Well, they are showing their confidence in you." I tried to explain but for some reason that angered her.

"Don't you ever get tired of being reasonable, Grissom?" she retorted angrily, "Don't you ever get mad at something or at someone?" she asked and before I answered, she snorted and looked away, muttering "Ha, look who I'm asking!"

She threw away the shredded tissue and covered her face with both hands.

"I can't take this.  I'm trapped, trapped, trapped! And in case you're wondering, no, I'm not fine, I'm angry, I'm supremely pissed off, and I hate this place.  I hate that they cut flowers to brighten the rooms of drunks like me! I hate that all this money is wasted on weak, stupid, useless people who don't deserve it!" she wasn't crying, she was just so angry she could hardly breathe.  I moved my chair and sat beside her.  I tentatively put my arm on her shoulders,  

"Are your parents staying in Vegas?"

"No." she mumbled bitterly, "They say that they trust me to get well, but the truth is they just don't know how to deal with me."

"Do you want them to stay?  I'll talk to them if you want."

"No. No, don't do that." She lowered her hands and looked earnestly at me. "Grissom, you…You'll be there, right?  Even if I don't do well?  I swear I want to do well." She said quickly, "I want to get out and never come back, but if I don't make it, will you help me?"

"Sara, I'll always be there for you." I promised, "No matter what happens."

And she nodded and took a deep breath and she gradually calmed down.

There were times when I questioned Don's treatment, particularly after that visit.  However, the fact that she was looking better gave me a little hope.  Even her outburst had been positive.  She was talking, she was showing her anger, and she was realistic enough to know that staying at the clinic was only a step on her way to recovery, not a miracle cure.  

So that day I was waiting for her, hoping that she'd be feeling ok.  And yes, she looked happier this time.

She smiled widely as she told me about her occupational therapy and the books she'd read, and more importantly…

"I have a job outside since yesterday," she said proudly, "I'm reading children's books at St. Mary School."

"Really?" I was surprised, "They let you go out?" I immediately regretted saying that.  She wasn't a prisoner, for God's sake.  Fortunately she didn't mind.

"It's a form of community service," she explained, "We're sponsored by some ladies from a  Catholic Church.  We do things like reading to the blind or to kids."

Church, kids, those weren't words I associated with Sara, my CSI partner.  She was smiling, knowing very well what I was thinking.

"That's why they needed me to bring a dress, by the way," she smiled. "Next week I'll have a different assignment, though.  I still don't know if it will be more reading or if I'll have to help organize a party for the Senior Citizens Center, whatever that is." She crossed her fingers, "I'm hoping for the reading, of course."

We laughed at that.  She looked at me for a moment and then she patted my hand.

"I want to apologize for my outburst the other day."  I smiled and she added, "I want to thank you for everything you've done, too."

She smiled widely when she noticed that I was blushing.

"You would have done the same for me, Sara" 

"Oh, no. I don't have friends in high places like these." She looked around.  Then she gazed at me.  She seemed to be choosing her next words very carefully, "Frankly, if the roles had been reversed, I don't think I would have been able to deal with you being drunk.  I'm so used to you being perfect."

"I am not perfect," I frowned. "You've pointed out my flaws many times, yourself."

"Yeah, I have.  But it's not the same, Grissom.  You'd never do anything as stupid as getting drunk and putting lives in danger.  But you're right, I've pointed out every little flaw I've perceived in you. I've even been angry at you for not acting as I expected you to.  I…" she hesitated, "That's something I wanted to talk about today.  You see, it's kind of embarrassing." She admitted, flushing a little, "It's a discovery I made today.  You see, I'd always seen myself as an independent woman, a feminist, even.  Someone who stands on her own-" she paused.  When she spoke again I thought she was changing the subject.  "My parents...  They, hum, they are these perennial hippies; care free and trusting.  They always let me make my own decisions and they always said I was doing great." She looked down at her hands, "No matter what happened, they simply said that they trusted me, that no matter what, things were all right in the end. I grew up with little supervision and I really  thought that I was taking take care of myself." she gulped. "I did ok until I went away to College.  My self-confidence suffered a big set back, Grissom; I wasn't really prepared to be alone and make my own decisions.  I discovered that things didn't turn out all right in the end.  I didn't know how to relate to people and I found it hard to fit in. I was harsh and not very well liked." She smiled knowingly, "I guess I haven't changed that much." "Sara…" I frowned. I didn't like to hear her put herself down. "You are a-"

"Please, let me…" she interrupted gently.  "Anyway… the years passed… I was insecure but managed to hide it very well.  I had a couple of friends who helped me, I had some others who didn't help much…" she sighed, "Anyway, I studied hard and chose a career; a career that I liked but wasn't sure of until I went to a Seminar and met a charismatic Entomologist, Doctor Gil Grissom…"

"Charismatic?" I frowned.

"Oh, yes. You're very seductive when you're teaching Seminars." She smiled. 

We looked at each other and for a moment I was sure we were thinking of the same thing:  Those happy days at the Seminar, our Garden of Eden…  

She lowered her gaze.

"Grissom, these past two days I've been reading book after book of fairy tales…" she said, apparently changing the subject again.. "I never read those when I was a child, but I knew enough of them to reject them for discouraging girls from standing up for themselves.  Well, I read them yesterday and the little kids loved them… Me, I hated the stories at first, but… last night I was thinking about them, and… well," she smiled nervously, "This is embarrassing.  As I told you, I'd always thought I was an independent woman, but now … I've realized that all my life I'd been looking for someone to take care of me. Someone who'd tell me what to do… someone who'd validate what I do and who I am. Someone who'd guide me and like me." She gulped, "You see, these past years I've not been independent and self-sufficient.  All this time I've been depending on you."

"Sara, I don't think so."

"Listen," she said and suddenly she was enthusiastic about this. "I wasn't sure about the career I'd chosen until I met you.  Before that, I thought I'd chosen law enforcement just to piss off my parents.  But once you took me under your wing and approved, I felt more secure in my choice. And not only that; I wasn't just Sara Sidle then, I was Gil Grissom's friend!  Suddenly I was more popular!" she smiled and looked down in embarrassment. Then she looked up at me. "When I got my first job, you were the first person I called, not my friends or my parents. After all, nobody else approved of me working for the PD, but you did; you'd even written a great letter of recommendation.   Later, when I told you I wasn't happy with that job, you helped me find another.  You… you kept solving my problems and fighting my battles.   And when I asked you to call me if there ever was something available in Las Vegas, I simply waited for your call.  I wasn't surprised when you asked me to come. I knew that you'd solve my life again."

There was a moment of silence.  I was too overwhelmed by her words to really analyze them. Still, I tried to say something.

"Sara…" I cleared my throat, "I may have made a few calls to help you, but you are a fine investigator.  That's what got you those jobs, and that's what made me help you in the first place."

She didn't really listen to me; she only wanted to tell me what she had discovered.

"I was happy to work here and to be learning from you…But after the first year, I realized that I wasn't as special to you as I had been when I was far away. Hum…" she looked down, "For instance, I thought I'd work with you all the time... I thought you'd take care of me and you didn't.  And then I was angry with you for not being more sensitive, for not showing your feelings, for not living up to his image of you that I had constructed over the years."  She took my hand and looked into my eyes, "I'm so sorry."

"It's… It's ok." I stammered, still processing her words. "I'm… I'm sorry that I wasn't-"

"I expected you to love me, too." She said candidly and I suddenly felt a stab of pain in my gut. "You see? Just like in a fairy tale, I expected you to love me so I could live happily ever after!" she released my hand, "I kept harassing you -"

"That's not true-" I argued, but she immediately interrupted me.

"Grissom, I touched you, I kept asking you out- That's harassment." she grew serious then, "I was over the line and still you didn't put me in my place.  I misunderstood that.  I thought you loved me and just needed a little encouragement.  I didn't understand that you just couldn't do it; that your life was already settled and you couldn't change it for me."

She was repeating the words I had uttered only a few months ago, after Debbie Marlin's murder… The pain in my gut only deepened and maybe something showed in my face because she briefly put her hand on mine again.

"You couldn't love me the way I wanted you to." She amended kindly, "And it wouldn't have been such a big deal, you know?  If my feelings for you had been like the ones I had for Hank, I would have dealt with rejection more easily.  Instead it shattered me. Suddenly, I felt truly alone.  I wasn't working with you anymore, and… Again, I found myself having to take care of me and not knowing how to do it.  It was hard. I couldn't sleep, and the cases became harder to deal with.  So… I drank to be able to sleep a little; and then I drank to forget that I couldn't deal with my life." She said slowly, "Now I have to face that I was unfair to you.  I said that you were bad for my self-esteem, but the truth is I was expecting you to solve a problem that had started years ago."

"Sara…" I gulped, "You're my friend. You had every right to expect me to care about you-"

"I said one truth at least." She said as if I hadn't spoken, "I gave you my life and you didn't ask for it.  You're just too wise to do that.  I realize that now, Grissom. Now I understand your detachment during your investigations, or why you don't let your feelings take a hold of yourself.  You know very well that there are consequences to every action.  You care about your job and the people you work with, while I was only thinking of me." She took a deep breath, "I should have been more like you all these years."

 "Sara, don't." I closed my eyes, trying to find the right words "Don't ever be like me.  Ever."

"Why not? Did you ever get drunk enough to almost kill yourself and others.?" She asked. "Of course not. You'd never do that."

This was becoming too painful.  What made it worse was the fact that she was detailing all my flaws as if they were qualities

"You feel things, Sara." I argued, "You still open your heart to others, while I don't do that anymore.  I sometimes wish I were more like you."

"Well, that wouldn't be very wise, but thank you." She smiled.  After a moment of silence she spoke softly. "You solved another problem of mine by bringing me here." she squeezed my hand, "I promise you I'll work hard so I don't get in trouble again."

"Sara, I was glad to help…" I mumbled, "I mean, I'm glad that you're getting better. I'd do anything-"

"Thank you." She smiled; a sweet, wide smile that melted me. "I want to ask you a favor now.  A friend's favor." She leant a little closer.

"Sara…" I mumbled, and my heartbeat quickened, because I was going to say IT. "I'll do anything you ask me to."

"Really, Grissom?" she studied my face for a moment. "Thank you.  It means a lot to me, believe me. Could you… could you tell Nick that I'm here?"

I paused.  The stab of pain that I'd felt in my gut was spreading, spreading to my spine and to my head. 

I forced myself to speak.

"Why?"

"He'll understand." She said simply.

"…And you think I won't?" I blurted out.

"You've already spent too much time on me."  She said reasonably. "You have other worries, Grissom." 

"But I could come…" I started, but something stopped me.  She had asked for Nick and if it had to do with this new understanding of herself, I had to accept it.  I had prayed for her to ask me anything and she just had.  Her own words echoed in my head, Don't you ever get tired of being reasonable? Yes, I got tired sometimes. But I forced myself to be reasonable for her sake.

"I'll tell him." I said softly.  She nodded and patted my hand again.

"Thanks." She smiled, "I appreciate that.  And Gris, listen…I want you to know that I'll never forget what you've done for me."

"Sara, you're my friend.  I'll do any-" I stopped. I'd already said IT and it had blown in my face. "I'm glad you're getting better." I said instead. "I admire you, Sara."

"That means a lot to me." She said and she turned serious. "I want you to know too, that I can stand on my own feet now.  This… it has made me stronger. I've learned a lot about myself and others, and… You don't need to worry anymore."  She smiled, "I'll be all right."

That was her sign that the visit had come to an end. She always said 'I'll be all right' just before going back inside.  

I sat there, expecting her to get up and leave, like she had the other times I had visited.  She didn't.

"So…" I said.

"Take care of yourself." She said smiling.  And still she didn't move.  

I understood then.  She wanted to see me walk down my own path to my own door this time.  I stood up and looked at the long path that I'd have to walk. I didn't think I could do it, not with her looking, but I had to.  I smiled a goodbye and started walking, self-consciously.  Suddenly the path seemed too long and the door seemed to be out of my reach, and the pain in my head was becoming unbearable. But I walked on.  At the last minute, though, I looked back at her.  There were tears rolling down her cheeks but she smiled brightly when she saw me looking back. I was about to walk back when a nurse opened the door and called me.  She was waving my cell phone.

"You have an urgent call, Dr. Grissom."

I didn't take it; I needed to see if Sara was really crying, but when I turned again she was already walking away.

TBC


	2. Chapter two

UNDER THE INFLUENCE

Part 5

I didn't stop to chat with Don this time.  I drove home, showered, ate something, went back to the lab and caught up with my paperwork.  

I did everything possible to avoid thinking too much of her unexpected request.  I mean, why Nick and not Catherine? Why him and not me?

But when I told Nick, I began to understand why she'd chosen him.  Nick is a nurturing guy after all.  His immediate reaction was of concern. ("Oh, man, why didn't you tell me?") and I didn't even have to tell him to keep this a secret. ("We can't let anybody know, Grissom!").

I dutifully told him about visiting hours, and then handed him a book

"You won't have time to buy her anything today, so give this to her." 

He read the title.

"'Nonsense Poems'?"  he smirked. "This is what you've been giving her?  Books?"

The smirk stung and for a brief moment I hoped he'd go and buy her teddy bears and chocolates and that everything would be torn apart by the clinic staff… 

But I'm a 'reasonable' man.  Just before the shift ended, I warned him about the regulations.

"I'll get her a puzzle." He said full of enthusiasm and I gaped… why didn't I think of it myself?  She loves puzzles!  Oh, damn… 

No wonder Sara preferred him.

**

A few days after, Jim and I were questioning a suspect, though to be honest, I wasn't paying much attention.  As soon as I saw the guy's hands I knew he wasn't our murderer.  Calluses like the ones he had on his fingers would have shown on the fingerprints I'd lifted.  I didn't need Jacqui's report to know he wasn't our guy.  

But I didn't tell Jim; I was distracted by my own troubles.

I was losing control. I had been working too hard and sleeping too little, and frankly I had been tormenting myself by thinking of Sara and the things that I did and didn't do to deal with her problem. 

For instance, I never told her that I was sorry.  She had blamed herself for what had happened but I knew that I shared a huge part of the blame.  If I had been another man (like Nick, I guess), I would have known what to do with the love she'd offered; I would have helped her deal with her insecurities. 

What comforted me a little was the fact that she would be fine.  According to Don, she was going to be discharged in less than a week and her prospects were good. She'd choose whether to stay or to leave... And I would honor her choice.

"Would you give her up that easily?" 

Those words haunted me now. I hadn't understood what Don meant at the time but now I did.  I'd given her up as soon as I agreed to tell Nick, but it hadn't been easy.  Up until today I had hoped that she would call me and ask me to visit.  She didn't. 

I knew my life would be hell from now on.  I mean, what was I going to do without her?  

That thought came unexpectedly and I gasped.

Jim's suspect looked at me.

"Hey man, you ok?"  He said full of concern, "You've just gone white."

I muttered something and left the room, barely aware of Jim frantically saying something into the tape recorder to account for my abrupt exit.

I went to the nearest bathroom and splashed cold water on my face.  I took deep breaths and gradually calmed down, but that thought was tormenting me.  what am I going to do… ?

Jim found me there and started yelling at me for ruining his case.  I mechanically told him about the guy's fingers and asked him to leave me alone, though not in those polite terms. He hesitated and then left.

For a moment, I stood in the middle of the bathroom, not knowing what to do.  I didn't want to go home –I couldn't sleep anyway- and I didn't want to go back to the lab and face my coworkers.  Suddenly I understood how Sara had felt:  Having a drink sounded like a good way of solving my dilemma…

I phoned Jim instead, and I apologized. 

**

In the end I went to my office but couldn't concentrate.  I just sat there, staring at the pile of paperwork that never seemed to decrease. 

Then I looked around me.  Everything I had worked for was there, neatly contained in a single room.  My diplomas, my files, my specimens and all the little mementos that I'd gathered through the years; they were witnesses of a career that was entering its final decade.

It was a just a box, I realized.  A big cold box made out of glass, chrome, plastic, and my own dried up heart… But this was what I'd always wanted, wasn't it?

"What do you want?" I asked aloud, surprising myself.

My answer was barely audible, though.

"I want to go back in time."

I smiled to myself.  Go back in time, like in a fairy tale… Go back and do all the things that I never did because I too scared to even try…

"Hey, Grissom?"  Nick asked.  He had entered my office and I hadn't noticed, "Can I talk to you?"  .

"Sure, Nick." I said, quickly composing myself. "Sit." 

"It's about Sara." He said, lowering his voice.

"Yeah?" I wasn't concerned.  I had called Don that morning and he'd assured me she was doing good.

"It's... Well..." he hesitated, "I've been worried. I mean-"

I sighed in exasperation.

"What, Nick?"

"I was wondering if… if all this happened because of the promotion."

"No, Nick." I said patiently, "It wasn't that."

"Because if it was, man! It would be awful."

"Nick, don't feel guilty, just try to be supportive, all right?"

"I want to be supportive, but this is Sara, Grissom. She's usually so level headed; it's hard to see her going through this."

"I know, but that's exactly why she needs our support.  How is she doing, by the way?" I asked politely.

"If you want to know, go ask her yourself."

I paused.  That didn't sound like Nick.

"What did you just say?" I asked and he gulped but didn't back down.  

"You heard me," he challenged. "You just stopped visiting; that's not very supportive, Grissom."

"I don't think she needs to see her boss right now, Nick."

"Are you sure? She looks over my shoulder all the time, as if she's waiting to see someone else. She didn't forbid you to go, did she?"

I paused, trying to remember her exact words.  She had said that she'd be all right… that she could be on her own and that I had enough problems... I guess she didn't want me to think that I had to be there all the time… But she didn't forbid me to go.  She simply wanted me to have a choice now-  My choice.

"What do you want?"  Don had asked over and over and until now I didn't understand why.

Nick was still talking.

"… Poor girl has been making paper flowers to decorate the gym, and-"

"Why?" I asked.

"She'll be working at a party tonight." Nick said, "Something about a Center-"

"Senior's Center." I interrupted, trying not to sound too eager. "Do you know where it is?"   

**

Part 6 

Don was filing some papers when I entered his office.

"I need to know what she wants," I sad abruptly.

"Good evening, my friend." he said gently,

"Just tell me." I insisted, "I have to know if she still needs me."

"I can't talk about that, Gil, you know it."

"Don, I don't want to hurt her.  I just need to know how she feels about me; if she wants me, I'll do something about it-"

"Gil, she's always been honest with you.  She's told you the truth over and over.  Figure it out by yourself."

"I can't," I confessed, "All I can think of is that I'll make things worse for her."

He took off his glasses and motioned me to sit down.

"Gil... I wish I could tell you what to do but I can't.  Nobody can.  You see, no matter what I say or what Sara tells you, you only listen to yourself. And what you keep saying over and over is that you can't love her." He looked at me with something close to compassion as I fought not to break down.

"I ..." I began, "I did want to love her.  I would have this time, if she had asked me-"

"Why would she do that again?  It didn't take her anywhere the other times she did." he leant on, "Gil, she's rebuilding her self-esteem.  She can't go on asking and hoping that you'll say yes. That's in the past and you'll have to accept it." 

I looked down and eventually I nodded.  He sighed. 

"Remember College, Gil?" he said softly, "We all used to wonder why it was so difficult for you to accept that someone could love you.  Lots of girls did, you know." 

"I'm not going to talk about it, Don." I said, standing up.

"So don't." he said gently, "Just tell me what you want."

I was going to be evasive again, but in the end I relented.

"I want Sara." I admitted.

He nodded, as if he already knew that.

"Then make a decision." he said gently. "And stick to it, for her sake and yours."

I nodded.

**

Part 6

The 'Center' was actually an all-purpose building tucked behind a Catholic church that had seen better days.  Some kids were scrubbing the front steps and others were hanging a banner that announced, DANCE AND DINNER TONIGHT.  I asked them for directions and they told me to go in and ask for the organizer, Ms. Sandburg.

The building was actually a large square with high windows that apparently doubled as a sports center too.  There were a few pieces of exercise equipment that had been pushed into a corner and replaced with tables and chairs.  

An elderly lady (Ms. Sandburg?) was scolding a young woman who was wearing the clinic's signature silk t-shirt.  It wasn't Sara, so I turned the other way and looked for her.

I went down a hallway and tried several doors; I was about to try another, when she herself came out of the room and was immediately startled.

"Grissom!  What's wrong?" 

"Nothing." I frowned, "Why?"

"Are you here to investigate a crime or something?"

"No, Sara." I smiled, "I just wanted to see you.  I mean, since I haven't been able to go to the clinic"

"Oh." she glanced around, "Well, I'm not really supposed to talk to anybody, Grissom," she said apologetically, "Ms. Sandburg's very protective and I'm a little busy right now." She lifted a pot she was carrying "I'm taking the food to the kitchen." she explained. "But I might have a few minutes if she's looking the other way."

I nodded but didn't wait for her.  I went to talk to Ms. Sandburg and, introducing myself as Dr. Mackenzie's good friend, Dr. Grissom, I offered my help.

**

Ms. Sandburg was upset because the young woman, Meredith, was refusing to do her job.  She'd simply sat on the floor and was ignoring everyone around her, ('she's angry because I didn't let her talk to a young man…') Ms. Sandburg whispered loudly. (but I can't let them out of my sight, you know.")  

I offered to replace Meredith, thinking that I'd be sent to work with Sara… But I wasn't.  I was asked to hang paper flowers.  I was morosely wondering where to hang the last one when Sara came to mock me.

"My, my, someone was tricked into helping"

"I wasn't tricked; I offered." I replied. Then I looked around and lamented, "This reminds me of the Prom". 

"Did you go to the Prom?" she was surprised.

"Not exactly. I refused to go and as punishment, they put me in charge of lights and the cleaning.  I had to be there from beginning to end."  

"Dr. Grissom!" gushed Ms. Sandburg, suddenly materializing behind Sara, "Thank you very much for your help! Just in time too.  Our senior citizens are coming."

"Ms. Sandburg," I smiled, "is there anything else I can do for you?"

"Well... I don't think so..." she hesitated.

"I'll need help with the dish washing," said Sara, "since Meredith bailed out."

"Oh, but I don't think Dr. Grissom would-"

"Please," I said as charmingly as I could, "Call me Gil."

**

"'Please, call me Gil.'" Sara was mocking me as we went to the kitchen.

"Hey, it worked.  We can talk and you won't get in trouble."

"You're a master manipulator." she retorted.  That sounded like a reproach but before I could ask if it was, she pulled me to a side door.

"Let's stay here while they serve the food." She said, opening the door and leading me to a little patio.   Sara sat on a pile of bricks and looked at me expectantly.

"So what's the deal with Meredith?" I asked

"Oh. You know." She said evasively.  She was being loyal to a fellow inmate and I respected that. 

We were silent for a moment and then Sara said suddenly,

"Calico drum

the grasshoppers come

the butterfly, beetle and bee

over the ground..." she paused.

"...around and round, with a hop and a bound." I finished.

"Ah, ha!" she laughed, "I knew it! You sent me that Edward Lear book, didn't you? Did you really think I'd believe Nick would give me that book?"

"What's wrong with it?" I replied morosely.  She was surprised at my tone.

"Nothing." She said "I loved it."

"What did Nick get you?" I asked before I could stop myself.  

"A puzzle" she answered, looking closely at me closely, "Very pretty, by the way."

She was smiling faintly, studying my reaction.  I was about to say that I wasn't jealous but I stopped; I was losing control of the situation and I didn't like that.  She waited for me to say something but I didn't and she sighed. 

"Come on." She said, standing up, "We have to wash some pots."

We entered the kitchen again and I lifted a pot that didn't look so dirty.

"Oh, good." I said, "It seems they were licked clean" She made a face.

"Ugh. Saliva."

"I'll wash, you dry." I said and she smiled.  She opened a plastic bag and took out some gloves and plastic aprons.  She handed me the gloves and helped me with the apron.   I returned the favor.

"I've missed you." I said as I tied her apron. 

"Me, too." she admitted, looking at me.

"I would have found the time to visit, Sara.  It wasn't a burden."

"I was hoping you would come." she said, putting a pot in the soapy water, "I loved your visits, Grissom, but I needed to prepare myself for the world outside." She looked at me and realized that I didn't understand. "I mean, there you were giving me all your attention and I... I needed to start each day knowing that you wouldn't necessarily be there; I needed to face each day accepting that fact."

"But why did you ask for Nick?"

"I've been unkind to him many times.  I wanted to apologize first of all." She explained, handing me a pot to scrub, "It was like a penance, you know?  I mean, it was hard for me to be humble, and he's so irritatingly clean and perfect-" she narrowed her eyes for a moment.

I snorted and she smiled sheepishly.

"He sometimes gets on my nerves but he's a good guy, Grissom.  AND he's been working on my cases. I needed to know what he'd done so far."

I was visibly surprised to hear her talk about work and she shrugged.

"I miss the lab. I miss the people, the place, even the smells."

"We've all missed you too, Sara.  It's been too long without you."

She didn't say anything; she handed me another pot and put the rest to soak.

"Will you take me back?" she asked after a moment.

"I will, Sara.  Are you sure you want to go back?"

"I am.  I can't say I won't be overwhelmed by the cases, but I can manage my stress now.  I can even deal with the fact that-" 

The arrival of kids with some stacks of dirty dishes interrupted her. She looked at me.

"You'll dry this time."

We worked together very well.  We didn't even have to talk to know what the other was going to do.  It was the first time in a long time that our silence hadn't felt like a reproach.  

Was I going to disturb that perfect harmony by telling her how I felt?

**

Suddenly, the music got louder.

"Hey," she said, "The dancing's started!  Let's hurry; I want to see it."

Her enthusiasm surprised me.

"You must have enjoyed your prom, Sara."

"Me? Oh, no, I didn't go."

"Too cool to go, huh?" I teased her.

"It seemed silly." She shrugged. "You put on a dress and hope that a kid will take you dancing and then you go somewhere else to get drunk, and…" she flushed.

"Yes, some kids got drunk." I admitted.

"Did you ever go?"

"Not exactly. Dancing was out of my league, but I helped around and watched the rituals involved." I explained and suddenly I remembered that a girl did ask me once and even though I wanted to go, I said no. I was too scared.  

She helped me dry the last dishes. She seemed to be thinking hard about something.

"Actually…" she began. "I think that… deep down I did want to go."

"Had a crush on someone?" I asked gently.

"Yeah, like all teens.  But it wasn't just that.  The prom is… a rite of passage, isn't it?"

"I suppose. "

"We should all take part in these rituals." she said slowly, "Even if they turn out to be mistakes, we learn from them and then move on…If you don't experience that mistake as a young person, you'll make it as an adult and then it isn't so cute, is it?" she seemed to be thinking aloud, "Or you keep avoiding the experience in order to avoid the mistake and in the end you're not experiencing life at all."

She wasn't talking about the Prom anymore.  I looked at her over the stacks of clean dishes, thinking of all the experiences I'd missed because I'd been afraid.

"We need to grow up," Sara said suddenly, "We have to change… evolve…" she looked at me in the eye. "These past weeks have helped me see myself under a different light, Grissom. I hope you understand that I won't be the same."

"Sara-"

"I'll work hard to win back your confidence," she said quickly, "But I need you to see me as your equal, not as a 'girl' anymore."

She took me by surprise, so I simply nodded, but I wondered what she meant by 'equal'. I had  always had confidence in her abilities, after all.  I tried to explain.

"I may have referred to you as a 'girl' but I wasn't patronizing you, Sara. It's just that you're younger.  And…" I paused for effect, "I'm very aware that you're my equal… AND a woman."

She blushed but didn't look at me until we finished and went to watch the old people –excuse me, senior citizens – dance.  To my surprise they were playing music from the 60s.

"This is depressing." I groaned, "They're dancing to songs I knew when they were new!"

"When was that? When records were carved in stone?" she joked and I scowled.

She smiled and continued watching.  She looked happy, and why not?  She had helped organize this and it had gone well.  

She was happy and relaxed while I was nervously aware that I had wasted hours waiting for the right moment to talk to her. Why was it so hard?  I'm usually clumsy with women, but I can be direct, as I was with Lady Heather…  But it wasn't the same, was it? After all, I had studied Heather's web site to know how to act around her.  I thought she would accept me, flawed as I am.  Ironically, she accepted my flaws, but not the one thing that I consider my only quality: My work as an investigator.  

But there were no books or websites on how to love Sara.  

That was the difference:  I loved Sara.  There, I'd said it to myself and very clearly. 

I held my breath, vowing not to exhale until I got the courage to tell her.  I was already turning blue when I turned to her…

…And backed off at the last minute.

"Want to dance?"  I said, loud enough for her to hear.

"Wha…? Oh, no. No, no, no, thanks." She said, vigorously shaking her head. "I'm so bad you wouldn't believe it."

"I'm bad too." I said and I grabbed her hand. "Let's do it anyway." I pulled her to a dark corner of the room. She resisted.

"Grissom, this isn't a good idea." 

"Come on, it'll be fun-"

"Grissom, no; you'll laugh at me-" She pleaded.

"Sara, please?" I interrupted, "Let's try.  Just think that this is our Prom."

She hesitated a little and finally relented.

"All right.  Just remember I'm not wearing boots."

"Fine, fine… just follow my lead."  She let me position her left hand on my shoulder.  I placed my left hand flat on her back, leant a little and let our cheeks meet. "Ok."  I whispered. "1, 2, 3…" I counted along with the song as I moved, with her in my arms.

Tonight you're mine completely

Give me your love so sweetly

…Will you still love me tomorrow?

"Hey, you've done this before?" she asked, pulling back a little.

"No, (1, 2, 3)"  

"How did you learn?"

"Web site, (1, 2, 3)" 

"But have you practiced?" she insisted.

"No. (1, 2, 3)"

"Ouch!" she cringed.

"Uh, sorry, Sara.  Oh, sorry. (1, 2, 3)."

But by the third song, we weren't doing so bad and  we were more comfortable with the closeness too.   By the time they played, "Stand by Me" I didn't need to count anymore. I held her even closer.

So darling, darling stand by me…

"Is my beard bothering you?" I asked suddenly.

"It's ok." She said softly.

"Sara? I'm going to dip you." I warned.

"Oh, no. No, no, don't, Grissom!" she was alarmed, "I swear, if you do that, I'll- Aaauurgh!" she moaned as I dipped her until her hair almost touched the floor.  Even in the dim light I could see her awed expression.  For a few seconds I pictured her like this, blushing, soft and pliant in my arms, with her lips parted in anticipation… in my bed.  No, not my bed, hers.  She'd feel more comfortable in her own room- 

I brought her back up and she pretended to be angry but her smile betrayed her.

"You'll pay for this, Gil Grissom!"

"Oh, yeah?"  I challenged, "What are you going to do to me?" 

"Nothing.  Your back will give you enough trouble tomorrow!"

The song ended but I didn't release her.  I held my breath again, but only for a moment. 

"I need to tell you something."  I said.

***

We were back at the patio, but this time she didn't sit. We stood in the middle, under the stars… I hadn't released her hand.  I needed it for support.

"Sara, I have a confession to make."

"What is it?"

I still hesitated for a moment, but told myself that I wanted to do this.  I wanted… I wanted… I was selfish tonight.

"First of all, I'd like you to know that I admire what you've done. You're completing your treatment; Don says you're doing great-"

"Thank you." she said formally. 

"I'd also like to apologize for not being the kind of friend you deserve." I said firmly and she looked down for a moment.  I continued; suddenly it was easier now that her gaze wasn't on me.

"You've always been honest and open, and... I haven't." I took a deep breath. "You see, I always thought I was self sufficient and independent. I thought I did well on my own.  I mean, I do well on my job but I not in my private life-"

She didn't move; she seemed to be waiting for me to make a point.  It was going to be very difficult.

"When I was a kid I read fairy tales." I smiled sheepishly. "I loved them. Andersen, Grimm, Chinese, Arabian… I escaped through them, you know? But at the same time I was very aware of reality.  My own reality at least.  To me, happiness and love were the stuff fairy tales are made of.  Lovely to read about but not real, and not within my reach.  I could dream and fantasize all I wanted, and I still do, but I knew what real life was.  I got used to live like that and I was doing ok.  My personal life didn't interfere with my job and that was all that mattered.  Until a few years ago when I started having troubles; I couldn't concentrate, I wasn't sleeping much, and I was a little depressed… I didn't look for help, of course. I simply added another job:  I began teaching Seminars because I thought traveling would be a diversion." I looked at her, "And so one day I entered a classroom, just another classroom or so I thought,  and there I saw this girl… You.  You were hard to ignore, you know?  You were wearing a magenta blouse," I smiled fondly at my recollection, "And you kept firing up questions and you kept interrupting the class because you needed to know things… I'd never met anyone like you.  You were so smart and fearless, Sara. And when you smiled." I closed my eyes, "That smile… just mesmerized me.  From that day on, it felt as if you owned me." I heard her quick intake of breath and felt her hand squeeze mine.  "I guess I fell in love that night." I took a deep breath, "I didn't really know… or maybe I didn't want to know.  But I kept in touch with you, which I'd never done before, and I tried to do things for you.  Things like getting you books that were out of print or rare magazines, or helping you find another job instead of telling you to tough it up.  I loved doing things for you.  I kept hoping you'd need something, anything that I could get for you.  Any thing that would keep me in touch with you.  And all that time I never realized that all I wanted was to give you… myself."

When I finished, Sara tentatively put a hand on my shoulder.  I was barely aware of this.  I simply kept talking.  I felt as if something hard and heavy that I'd carried inside me was dissolving.  

"So that's my confession," I whispered, "I spent years telling myself that I was better off alone, when in fact I've been depending on you.  You lived in my dreams and I thought that was enough.  What I didn't understand is that relationships have to evolve to survive… I mean, I thought you'd always be there no matter what I did.  But today I realized for the first time that you might not need me anymore, and my first thought was 'What am I going to do now.  How can I go on without her.'  And then I remembered all the times that you tried to help us grow up and I rejected you… And I wish I could go back in time and start over and do all the things that you asked me." I looked at her, "I was just so afraid I'd be clumsy and you'd be bored and just turn your back on me. Or worse, that I'd hurt you.  And it's awful because I hurt you anyway." I looked at her and noticed that she had tears in her eyes.  "I know I have to grow up; I WANT to, but..." I took a deep breath. "It's hard."

"Yeah." she nodded, and she gently wiped the tears that I had shed without knowing. "It is. But we have each other." She added with a smile.

I closed my eyes and leant my forehead against hers, relieved.

"Yes," I nodded gratefully.  "We have each other."

She pressed her body against me and I gulped.

"Just don't change too much, Grissom." She whispered, "I like you already."

Oh, damn, what a wonderful woman… It was painful to think that I would have lost her-

"I'm sorry I didn't figure it out sooner." I said apologetically. 

"We wouldn't have lasted a week back then." She said wisely, "There were so many things I didn't understand about me and about you, Grissom.  It'll be easier this time."

She slid her arms around me and I even though I loved the closeness I couldn't return her embrace as easily.  However, I knew that Sara's generosity was more that I deserved.  The least I could do was show her that I was willing to change:  I put my arms around her and held her a little closer.  We remained like that for a moment, getting used to new sensations.

"You know…" I lowered my voice, "There's something I've always wanted to do."

"What is that?" she asked breathlessly.

I nuzzled her cheek.

"There's a cute mole just below your ear…" I whispered. "I've always wanted to kiss it." I did. She gasped softly as I brushed kisses on her neck. "There's another one here." I whispered and smiled when I heard a strange sound coming from her. "Sara Sidle, you're giggling!"

"No!" she was indignant. "Your damn beard's tickling me!"

"I'll shave it if you want." I teased.

"No." she said softly, "I love how it looks on you."  

I happily kissed every inch of her face then –everywhere except her lips, and looked at her expectantly.  She looked into my eyes.

"I'm going to kiss you." She whispered. She grabbed the front of my shirt and slowly pushed me against a wall.  I smiled at her, letting her take the lead.  Her lips were soft against mine.  Soft and sweet and tender…A delicious first kiss.  She pulled back for a moment and looked at my lips, as if she couldn't believe she'd kissed me. She smiled and leant for another kiss, and then another…and suddenly we didn't care that that we were more or less in a public place, and we were hungrily exploring each other, desperate for more…

"SARA!"  Ms. Sandburg's voice brought reality back to us.  "SARA, WE'RE LEAVING!"

We opened our eyes in a panic and Sara immediately pulled back.

"Got to go." She said regretfully.

"No.  No, don't." I pleaded,  "Not yet."

"Got to.  I have a curfew." 

I pulled her back in my arms and kissed her neck again. She pulled away and she nervously wiped my lips, "My lipstick's all over you." She explained, not looking up.

"Leave it." I pleaded, "It's evidence that you kissed me.  If you wipe it off it'll feel as though it  was just another fantasy."

"It's not." She said softly. "It's real, Grissom. I love you."

I gulped and tried to say something but Ms. Sandburg's call interrupted us again.

"SARA!" Now it sounded angry and I really didn't want to get her in trouble.  I tried to comb her hair with my fingers. "Go. Run."

She nodded, but before she left, she blew a kiss in my direction and then she called out to Ms. Sandburg.

"There you are!" gushed Ms. Sandburg, "Sara, everything went well, thanks to you-"

I remained in the little patio for a while, trying to hold on to the memory of her in my arms, and her scent all around me.  

I suddenly wanted to shout that I'd kissed Sara Sidle; that my Sara had kissed me and touched me… that I loved her; that I believed that love and happiness were within my reach… Yeah, I was acting like an idiot and if my coworkers had seen me then, they would have gaped at me.

I smiled.  

What would they say if I told them that Sara and I had just starred in our own fairy tale?  That we danced and kissed, and at midnight –well, 11:30- she'd had to run?

Well, I didn't have a crystal shoe but I didn't need it to find her.

**

Two days later, I was reading a report when suddenly I had the feeling that someone was watching me.  I looked up and my heart began to jump in my chest.

"Hey." She smiled but I was a bit alarmed.

"Sara, what are you doing here?" 

"I hid under the dirty clothes and escaped." She said lightly, but when she saw my expression, she hurriedly explained, "I have the evening free! It's one of my final tests, Grissom.  I have to return sober."

I walked to her and hesitated; we were at the lab and we couldn't even shake hands without calling everybody's attention, but it felt awkward not to be able to touch her.

"I thought I'd say hi." She said, "I'm supposed come to work next Friday, but I thought I'd come and greet the guys-"

"Good." I approved, "Everybody will be happy to see you."

She nodded, looking at me expectantly.  I was a bit nervous.  I thought I'd see her on Friday, and I hadn't prepared anything to tell her yet. I didn't know how to be spontaneous.

"Don told me something about you working for him…?"

"Yeah." She nodded, "I'll do some fund raising and reading for the Clinic.  He's just trying to help me pay my bill" she admitted, "But I'll try to do my best."

I admired her so much I hoped I'd be able to tell her some day.

"Are you busy, Grissom?" she asked, looking over my desk.

"Yeah. I'm… you know, catching up with paperwork."

"I see." She said, still smiling. "Well.  I'll go and…" she paused, "talk to my coworkers."

"Yeah. Sure." I nodded, and watched as she walked backwards towards the hallway.  

Then at the last moment I decided to show her that I was already changing.  A little, at least.

"Hey, Sara?" I said and held my breath.

"Yeah." She stopped.

I exhaled and held out my hand to her.  She nervously reached out for it.

"I'd like you to have lunch with me on Friday." I said. "Anywhere you want.  Or" and I enjoyed the look on her face as I added, "I can cook something at your place."  Her place would be better.  "I've been checking out some vegetarian recipes and I think you'll be impressed."

"I'd like that." She said, smiling lovingly.  That smile was all I needed.

"And…" I paused, gathering some courage "I love you. You know that, right?"

Her lips parted but she didn't say anything for a long time.  She was so surprised. But when she spoke, it was just what I'd hoped to hear.

"Yes."

THE END

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